“Huh.” Sergei stepped to the side, so it could enter the shuttle. “Your creation?”
“Yes. It’s not anatomically correct,” she said, to forestall any jokes he might be thinking of.
His eyebrows arched. “Was that an aspiration?”
“No. I just—some people have seemed to think I built it for reasons other than carrying things.” Her cheeks heated anew when Sergei regarded her blandly. Why in all of the stars in the galaxy had she brought that up with him? She barely knew him. He wasn’t Striker; he probably hadn’t been thinking anything along those lines.
“Did you build it from scratch?” Sergei asked, watching the stocky robot deposit its load and roll back down the ramp for more gear.
“Yes, from scrap parts in the machine shop.”
“That’s impressive.” He cocked his head. “You haven’t been to a university?”
Jamie flushed, realizing he must have listened to her conversation with Ankari the day before. She had been certain he had been too far back to hear. Had she said anything embarrassing? She didn’t think so, but she had meant it to be a private discussion. “Not yet.”
“You fly, fix machines, and build robots from the ground up? It doesn’t seem like you need four years of sitting in a classroom.”
Her flush deepened at the compliment, but she didn’t smile or do anything to encourage him, other than murmuring a polite, “Thank you.” These last couple of months had made her wary of compliments from men, since everyone seemed to be angling for something in return. Not everyone, she admitted. Just a few who made her time on the ship less than comfortable. If it weren’t for them, she might be enjoying this whole adventure more. She had to admit the idea of sitting in a classroom didn’t interest her all that much—how often had she gotten in trouble back home for skipping out on her studies and running off to the machine shop to tinker? “Building robots isn’t really a career, though. It’s just something I did back home because we didn’t have extra money and had to make do. I remember being about six and helping my mom take a tractor and the CPU of the neighbor’s robot maid to make the homemade equivalent of a Wilshire 6000.”
Sergei lifted his brows again, probably not familiar with farm equipment.
“Kind of a big automated machine that plows, plants, and harvests, all in one. My mom was the real pilot and engineer in the family. She was…” Jamie swallowed and plucked at the curtain. It had been over a year since her mom’s death, and she had thought she was to the point where she could talk about it without tearing up. “Nothing. Never mind.”
Sergei lifted a hand toward her, as if to offer a hug or some reassuring pat. She grimaced and stepped back. She barely knew him. Why had she been babbling about her mom, anyway?
Footsteps sounded on the ramp, and Sergei lowered his hand, turning to face the newcomer. Sergeant Hazel scowled at him as she walked into the shuttle.
“Zharkov,” she said, her voice almost a growl. “The captain says you’re coming with us whether I like it or not, but I’m sure he would agree with me that you’ll keep your hands to yourself while you’re on this shuttle.”
Sergei’s mouth tightened, and Jamie regretted that she had backed away from him. Hazel must have seen that and thought… something else was going on. But he had only meant to offer a sympathetic pat or something of that nature; Jamie was sure of it.
Sergei clasped his hands behind his back. “That won’t be a problem,” he said coolly.
“Good.” Hazel brushed past him, not obviously intimidated, not the way Striker had been, though there was a hunch to her shoulders and a tenseness around her eyes that wasn’t usually there as she slung her own duffel bag into the bin. “Ankari is giving the captain his goodbye smooches, then we should be ready to go. This gear isn’t going to load itself, and there’s another box of food ready to pick up in the mess hall.” She jerked a thumb toward the exit, apparently meaning for Sergei to go fetch that one.
Jamie didn’t know who outranked whom, but after a moment of regarding Hazel with that cool gaze, Sergei walked out. He had no sooner disappeared into the shuttle bay than Hazel held up a hand, stopping Jamie from going out to pick up boxes.
“A moment, please,” Hazel said, lowering her voice.
“Yes?”
“I get why he’s here. The captain’s worried Ankari might be a target right now, a way a bounty hunter might try to get to him. And there’s probably not anybody on the ship more qualified to kill the hell out of those bounty hunters than Zharkov, but you don’t have to put up with any crap from him. If he bothers you in any way, let me know. I’ll tell the captain, and we’ll leave his ass on the planet when it’s time to go.”
“He wasn’t doing anything,” Jamie said, regretting once again that she might have given Hazel that impression.
“Good, we’ll see to it he doesn’t. I’m not sure the captain thought this through. Having him shacked up with a group of women, when he’s got problems.” Hazel tapped her temple.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen his record. I’m one of the few people on the ship who has, but the captain asked for my opinion on him back when he wanted to join the company the first time. I said most of the women on the ship were a lot more like me—” her lips twisted as she waved to encompass her broad shoulders and muscular form, “—than the pretty Fleet counselors he dealt with back in the military, and he probably wouldn’t have any issues, but the demographics have changed a little since then.” This time, she waved at Jamie and toward the curtain, where Lauren was probably working and oblivious to the conversation.
“Counselors?” Jamie felt like she was missing the puzzle pieces that would have revealed the contents of the picture.
“Don’t worry about it. Just know that he has some problems with women. Oh, and if you didn’t already figure it out, he’s an assassin too. Fleet trained and with over a hundred kills on his hands. He likes the job. I wouldn’t advocate treating him badly—most of the crew tiptoes around him, except the captain, who’s not afraid of anything insofar as I’ve ever noticed, but then people are afraid of the captain, too, so maybe like gets along with like. Guess that’s why Zharkov’s been invited back here. I don’t know. Either way, I don’t want you, Lauren, or Ankari letting yourselves get caught alone with him.”
“I… understand,” Jamie said, though she wasn’t quite sure if she did.
“You got that, Lauren?” Hazel pushed aside the curtain.
Lauren had her back to them as she sat on a stool, peering at three holographic displays stretched out over the counter, showing results for who knew what experiment. “Pardon?”
Hazel sighed and stepped into the little clinic.
Sergei walked into the shuttle, carrying a crate. His face was a mask of stone. He met her eyes briefly, but buckled the crate into the storage area and walked back out without a word. Jamie had a feeling he had overhead at least some of Hazel’s words. She hoped Hazel wouldn’t be in danger of some retribution. Sergei didn’t strike her as a vengeful soul, but she wouldn’t have guessed he was an assassin based on their first meeting, either.
She sighed and headed for the pilot’s seat. It was time to run through her preflight checklist and put these thoughts out of her mind. With luck, nothing would happen during their appointments, and they could return to the ship with the business a few aurums richer. At some point during the trip, Jamie hoped she could get her chance to ask Ankari about cashing in her shares so she could afford the tuition at the university. She was a little worried that Ankari might say it was too early or that there wasn’t much cash on hand yet. The deadline for applying for the semester was coming up in a couple of weeks, and maybe she didn’t need to worry about it until she was actually accepted, but the tuition would be due soon after that.
“Got a week to figure things out,” she murmured.
Chapter 3
Sergei leaned against the shuttle, trying not to feel emasculated by the pink paint under his shoulde
r. The color of the transport was the least of his problems.
He struggled to focus on the swarms of richly clad people strolling down the main dock of MountSky Central, passengers having departed from civilian transports and local shoppers browsing the offerings of the small grocery and craft ships that turned the promenade into a traveling flea market. He needed to be watching for threats, not dwelling on Hazel’s conversation with Jamie and the fact that it was eating holes in his gut. She had made it sound as if he was some psychopathic rapist. Assassination missions aside, the only woman he had ever hurt had been that damned counselor, and she had deserved to be killed in a horrible way. More horribly than he had done. He shuddered, his fist clenching even though the memory was ten years old. The utter shame of that whole situation… Sergei hated that Mandrake knew about it, but he had been, in many ways, a fellow victim. That made it less horrible. But the fact that Sergeant Hazel had been privy to Sergei’s record… He hadn’t known that. A part of him wanted to resent Mandrake for sharing that information, but he guessed he could understand why he had done it. He hadn’t fully trusted Sergei back then. Maybe he still didn’t.
That stung, and he wasn’t sure how to change Mandrake’s perception of him. Maybe he had made a mistake in coming. Maybe he should put it all behind him, change careers, and forget Mandrake Company and the Fleet forever. Except he had already tried that once, and he had missed the ship, missed the fact that Mandrake had never sent him on missions that made him feel like a villain in the end. The people he had killed for the company had deserved it, the evil bastards. Sergei wasn’t as good at choosing missions for himself.
He pushed away from the hull to walk a circuit around the ship, to make sure nobody suspicious was lurking. Numerous people were assuming the shuttle had some farmers’ market goods for sale, probably because of the cheerful pink facade, and he had to shoo people away. He had a list of customers who would be by today, and he would make sure nobody who wasn’t on the list walked up the ramp.
It was a job that was beneath him, but maybe this mission would ultimately give him the chance he wanted to prove himself to Mandrake. Protecting Ankari shouldn’t be difficult, but if he could also find the man who had put out the bounty in the first place… That should prove to Mandrake not only that Sergei was trustworthy because he hadn’t been tempted by the bounty, but that he could be counted on to take initiative. And that he could be trusted with the crew, whatever their sex. He ground his teeth. That insinuation Hazel made bothered him more than anything else.
Movement in the sky caught his eye, and he stopped his circuit. He was back near the ramp, and he eased into its shadow, crouching with the shuttle at his back. A bright afternoon sun beat down from above, a few white clouds being stirred as shuttles and freighters came and left the docks. But a ship wasn’t what he had seen. Something smaller had appeared at the periphery of his vision.
There.
A small black sphere floated above a craft on the other side of the broad promenade. A mobile camera. City security? Or the spy tool of a private party? It was too far away to tell if the lens was pointed at the Mandrake Company shuttle or if the camera was simply monitoring the dock. It hadn’t been there before, though. He would have noticed it during his scans of the area.
Without letting the device out of his sight, Sergei pulled a tablet out of his pocket, unfolded it, and murmured, “Show me the security equipment used by the MountSky central police.”
A hologram popped up, showing body armor, vehicles and planes, and weapons. He swiped at the floating image for more information, though from the gray and green color scheme and logos on the police gear, he doubted the black device belonged to city security. The display showed him some of the surveillance equipment in use on the station, verifying that none looked quite like the sphere. A private model, then.
Sergei pocketed the tablet and strolled into the center of the crowd, trying not to twitch when people walked near him. He had never cared for crowds. His habits made him scan everyone, searching for threats.
The camera continued to monitor the area from a stationary position until Sergei had reached the halfway point between the Mandrake shuttle and the other ship, a small freighter selling tropical fruit and bamboo crafts. The owner looked curiously at Sergei as he drew near, but Sergei was focused on the camera. Maybe the owner knew something about it.
But when the sphere let out a tiny bleep and darted off in the direction of the port authority building, the owner seemed surprised, as if he hadn’t had any idea the camera was there. Sergei whipped out his pistol and fired. The crimson laser beam blasted into the side of the sphere before winking out.
A few nearby people shouted and ran away from him, but most of the shoppers and travelers didn’t notice the shot or the whine of the pistol. Sergei holstered his weapon right away. There was probably a mandate against firing in a public area, and he didn’t have his Fleet credentials anymore. He slipped between the docked ships to further evade notice, coming out from behind one only to pick up the remains of the camera. It had plummeted to the deck, half its casing melted and its wiring and chips drooping out. He took a circuitous route back to the shuttle, though those who had noticed him firing had already lost track of him. They were talking and pointing toward the freighter he had first ducked behind.
“Problem?” Sergeant Hazel asked when he popped into sight again at the bottom of their ramp. She was standing next to Ankari, who had an insulated briefcase in hand and was talking to a middle-aged bald woman wrapped in colorful silks. The woman pursed her lips, frowning at Sergei.
He wasn’t scruffy—his clothes fit well and were without dust, grime, or holes—but he was far more likely to be taken for someone’s bodyguard than one of the well-to-do citizens strolling the promenade.
“Possibly,” he said, addressing Hazel and ignoring the other two.
“Right up there, ma’am,” Ankari said, pointing to Lauren who had come out of hiding in her lab. “Dr. Keys will be helping you.”
The bald women gave a disdainful sniff. “Very well.”
As soon as she walked up the ramp and disappeared inside, Sergei held up the mangled security camera.
“Someone was keeping an eye on us,” he said.
“On us?” Hazel asked. “You’re sure?”
Ankari rubbed the back of her head, mussing her brown hair, but not seeming to care. “I never thought I’d be the kind of person that people sent spy cameras after.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Hazel said. “If someone wants the captain, they’ll be more likely to go after him.”
Sergei frowned. He might be a trained assassin rather than a trained bodyguard, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to tell the person one was protecting not to worry. Vigilance from all parties would be more likely to keep everyone alive.
“Even more comforting,” Ankari said, her tone making it clear it wasn’t. “He wouldn’t be in this trouble if it wasn’t for me. I shouldn’t…” She sighed and gazed out at the passing crowd.
“He’s been in plenty of trouble over the years,” Hazel said. “Zharkov, any idea whose device that is? You sure you didn’t blow away a legitimate security camera?”
“It doesn’t belong to city security,” Sergei said. “I checked. As to who it does belong to, it might be possible to salvage the parts and trace its signal back to the owner.”
“You know how to do that?” Hazel asked.
She probably hadn’t meant it as a derogatory question, but Sergei was no computer expert, so he wasn’t that confident in his ability to trace the device back to what would probably be a secured network, one that might have been programmed to dismiss all association with the camera if it was destroyed.
“I might be able to,” came a cheerful voice from above.
Jamie walked down the ramp, her hands in her pockets. She had the look of someone who had just been booted out of a meeting. Indeed, she had no sooner stepped off the ramp than it rose, closing the shut
tle.
“By looking up the technical manual?” Ankari smiled faintly at some shared memory apparently, because Jamie smiled back and said, “Maybe.”
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Ankari said. “I have an appointment.” She raised her eyebrows at Sergei. “And my understanding is that you do too.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you wherever you go.”
Hazel bristled at that and looked like she might volunteer to go along, but Ankari pointed at the shuttle. “You’ll keep an eye on the business aspect, Sergeant?”
Hazel’s jaw ground back and forth a few times before she said, “Yes. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Watch out for the company’s twenty percent.” She glowered at Sergei and looked like she wanted to say something. What? Be good?
He had never done anything to anyone on the Albatross that should lead her to doubt him. Oh, he knew she had never approved of the idea of the company having an assassin, but this was new distrust, all related to the fact that he was guarding women. He sighed. This wasn’t the place to point out that he was indeed a decent person, or at least one who followed an honor code, but he would have to pull her aside for a private conversation at some point. She seemed to have some notions that went beyond what was in his Fleet file.
“Can I come?” Jamie asked as Ankari was about to walk off.
“You want to?” Ankari glanced at the shuttle. “Oh, because you were kicked out?”
“That and you’re going to the hospital that treats the downsiders, aren’t you? I’m curious about those people, about who sent that fighter and what they needed.” Jamie grimaced, her eyes full of guilt that didn’t belong there. She hadn’t been the one to fire at that craft. She had merely been evading it, doing her job.
“Yes,” Ankari said, “but it’s unlikely they’ll know anything about the craft or even be from the same continent. Viktor said he was going down to the planet to find out what the fighter wanted.”
The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) Page 4
